


Just Past Arby's and Straight on Till Morning

by art_deco_deity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Peter Parker, Domestic Fluff, Other, Parent Tony Stark, Peter is a Little Shit, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Road Trips, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art_deco_deity/pseuds/art_deco_deity
Summary: Tony Stark is taking Peter Parker on a college visit. He's obviously over the moon about it, but, there's something that's been nagging at him too.The billionaire knows he needs to talk about it; that lingering panic when he leaves Peter anywhere he can't see him and the codependence they've developed over the past year since the war's end. But talking is hard and he has no plans to begin unpacking that specific bit of trauma anytime soon. Especially not when Peter can't even watch the sun set without a panic attack.Or, the story of how a road trip borne out of the best intentions quickly spirals into the disaster both of them didn't know they needed.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 166





	Just Past Arby's and Straight on Till Morning

**Author's Note:**

> lmao enjoy this endgame fix-it because i truly truly believe no thematic value woulda been lost had tony just idk,,, lived or smth?

I'm just gonna run in and use the bathroom quick," Tony says. He twists in his seat, eyeing the driver's side where Peter sits behind the wheel. "Won't be long. You'll be alright getting gas?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "I know how to get gas."

"I'm just asking. Jeez, the sass on your generatio-"

"Just _go_, Mr. Stark." Peter tells him, opening the driver's side door and stepping out. "I'll be fine. Promise."

Tony nods tightly, and tries to fight the nerves rising up when he closes the car door and walks away. Peter parked close, and the gas station's doors were a measly 5 steps away, but if Tony looked back, the teenager looked just like any other youth and that was borderline unacceptable. It was enough to make Tony double back once, just to check that Peter still had his gelled-back curls and wide brown eyes. To check that a pile of gray ash wasn't waiting for him.

That was Tony's new normal: double checking the teenager's existence, being completely codependent, and living in a constant state of anxiety at the mere _thought_ of leaving Peter anywhere he couldn't see him. Holding a child as they disintegrate will do that to you, he supposes.

And Tony realizes that maybe, _maybe _he should just suck it up and have that conversation with Peter; maybe finally own up to that insecurity he has in him so that he can finally let go of all the fear. Or, at the very least, acknowledge that it exists somewhere outside of his head, instead of just tamping it down until he's a minute away from a panic attack. Instead of just shakily calling Peter at odd hours any night the teenager is away from the cabin. But talking is hard, and sharing _feelings _is even harder so Tony has never had that conversation; even if it makes him sick to think that the rest of his years are doomed to feel just as anxietal as the past one has been.

The gas station is gross, and the bathroom even worse, but Tony resolves that the sooner he bites the bullet, the sooner he can get back to Peter. So he grits his teeth, does what he has to, and picks up a giant bag of Hot Cheetos for the teenager on his way out.

Peter didn't ask for them; he almost never asks for anything, but this is a college trip and Tony refuses to do anything half-assed. So he loads up on snacks and struggles to open the car door and keep a hold on his bag with his remaining hand. Life is harder with just one arm; harder but worth it.

"Hey, kid, I got those gross cheetos you like." Tony says by way of greeting.

"Really?" Peter's already turning the key in the ignition and the car roars to life as he takes the bag from Tony. "Thanks so much, Mr. Stark. But you didn't have to."

"I know. I did anyways. So do me a favor and enjoy your free bag of cancer while you have it, because I will _not_ be buying them for you ever again."

"They're just cheetos, Mr. Stark. They're not gonna hurt me."

"Pete, look at one of those cheetos and try to tell me it doesn't look like nuclear fallout. Last time I checked, getting exposed to that much radiation can and _will _hurt you. Easily."

"You're dramatic." Peter smiles, popping open the bag and plucking a cheeto out. He holds it out to Tony, practically shoving it in his mentor's face. "See? It's red like apples, or-or strawberries, Mr. Stark! Totally healthy."

"You ever seen a strawberry?" Tony laughs, pushing the cheeto away from his face and lifting his closed packet of cashews up to his lips. He takes the corner in his teeth, and uses his hand to pull roughly in the opposite direction. Tony smiles when it tears open; he's still not used to only having one arm post-snap, but at least he can open his cashews. "Those cheetos aren't red like strawberries; they're red like your bleeding intestines after you eat them."

Peter laughs then, and as it always has since the day Tony got him back, the sound feels like a reward. It's bright and warm, like bursting sunlight and endless summer. The only sound in the world that can rival it for Tony is Morgan's own laughter, and even then it's always extremely close.

Peter makes quick work of his snack, and in less than 15 minutes the teenager is sticking his fingers into his mouth and preparing to start touching the steering wheel again. But this isn't a free-for-all, and Tony was _not_ raised in a barn. He can't let such sloppy behavior pass.

"Oi! Peter! What in the _hell_ are you doing, kid?" Tony slaps Peter's hands away from the wheel, cringing when he sees the teenager's fingers still coated in remnants of red dust. "Hands off my wheel."

"But, I have to _drive, _Mr. Stark."

"Not with your grubby little fingers still covered in cheeto, you absolute maniac! Here, gimme a sec," Tony leans forward, fingers brushing the underside of the dash on the passenger side. He struggles with the latch on the compartment for a moment, before letting the door fall open. He rummages through the mess, until he pulls out a packet of hand wipes. "Use these, kid. For the love of every thing good and clean, please just use these."

"_Hand wipes_?" Peter takes the packet incredulously, holding them under the car's light for closer inspection. "Since when do you carry hand wipes?"

"Since I started dropping Morgan off to grade school perfectly clean and picking her up grimy and disgusting. It's necessity, Underoos; you'll understand when you're older."

"I'm not sure I want to."

"Nah, you probably don't. Kids are expensive and dirty, Pete, don't have them." Tony says but there's no bite to it and he can't keep the smile off his face. "Now, be quick on the clean up because we've got a long drive ahead and I'd like to get there before I'm 60 please."

"That's gonna be hard to do since you're already 80, Mr. Stark, but I like the enthusiasm." Peter throws his used wipe at Tony, and the man practically seizes in his seat when it hits his face. "Which way is MIT again?"

"I'm not your personal GPS, kid." Tony grumbles, but he's already imputing the address into the car and pulling up directions. It's their usual routine; Tony pretending to be annoyed and then doing everything under the sun to make Peter smile. It's comfortable; _familiar_.

The teenager only smiles at Tony's complaining and shifts the car into drive. Peter drives because that's what he does now; drive them everywhere, constantly behind the wheel with Tony shouting at him from the passenger. Tony tries not to the let the fact be a hit to his ego. He consoles himself by saying that Peter's working on getting his license and he needs more practice; Tony ignores the fact that he's got one less arm then he used to, and driving has become progressively more difficult because of it.

"Hey, Mr. Stark, you think they'll be anyone who remembers you there?" Peter asks after awhile, eyes sliding to Tony's face for just a second.

"Maybe not remember, but they'll know who I am." Tony reaches over, patting Peter's shoulder with an indulgent hand because Peter's _back _now and he'll be forever doing little things now just because he _can_. "Obviously, they'll know. I'm a celebrity, kid; everybody knows who I am."

"Oh. Right."

Peter often forgets that the Tony Stark he knows is vastly different to the Tony Stark that greets the rest of the world. So much so, that the teenager sometimes forgets entirely that Tony isn't just a stay-at-home dad who concerns himself only with domestic matters like picking his daughter up from grade school or taking his psudeo-son on college visits. It's only too easy to forget that Tony was once Iron Man; especially since it had been nearly a year since he retired.

"I figure they'll probably have at least one building dedicated to me. Maybe two. Possibly three." Tony comments.

"That might be pushing it, Mr. Stark. Saving the world is great and all, but I don't think colleges care much about that unless they can make money off it."

"You might be right." Tony says. He reaches over to fiddle with the air conditioning in that particular way he always did. "But, you know, I really love the idea of you going to a college where you're stuck in more buildings under my name. Couldn't get away from me even if you wanted to."

"I'm going to MIT. That's like the opposite of trying to get away, Mr. Stark; I just hope it doesn't embarrass you when I show you up in your own academic buildings."

"Go ahead. Try as hard as you want, Pete, but gods just can't be beaten."

Peter swerves then, decidedly unimpressed with Tony's remark. It's an empty back road and the teenager uses that to his advantage, yanking the wheel until he's careening down the other lane with blistering speed. Tony screams, because Tony is always screaming in either exasperation or fear around Peter, and then the teenager finally goes back to driving on the right side of the road.

Peter is a bad driver and he speeds and runs stop signs he deems 'unnecessary' and gets the worst road rage Tony has ever seen; but Peter is alive and sitting behind the wheel and Tony is taking him on a college visit. It wasn't perfect but it was more than enough to make Tony smile through his complaints.

\----

It's hour two, and Tony takes it all back. None of it was worth it.

"Kid, I swear to god, if you don't turn on something good in the next two seconds, I will cut the breaks in this car myself."

"I have no idea what you're talking about; Taylor Swift's the back bone of american culture, Mr. Stark! I'm just trying to _educate _you!" Peter argues, hand on the volume knob and turning it up violently.

"Jesus _christ_," Tony shouts, batting Peter's hand away and turning the volume back down. "You're gonna deafen me now? Ungrateful little shit..."

"You can't say that word."

"Huh?"

"The," Peter starts, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "_S word_, Mr. Stark!"

"Peter. You are 17 fucking years old. You can say any swear. And you can especially say _shit _while you're at it too."

"I can't. Morgan told me it's illegal." Peter shrugs. "I'm trying to keep my spot as her favorite brother, thank you very much; I can't just _break_ her laws."

"I really don't think you have anything to worry about, kid."

"No, actually, I do, because _you_," Peter looks at Tony briefly, taking one hand off the wheel to point at his mentor. "You told her Harley's coming soon! Now all I hear about from her is how excited she is and how great he is- which, you know _false_, because he's _Harley_ and he _smells._"

"He doesn't smell, kid."

"Yes. He _does_, Mr. Stark; like arrogance and baby-faced immaturity!"

"Wait," Tony looks at him, blinking in disbelief over Peter's unusual attitude. "Are you really still mad about last time? It was just a _prank_, Pete!"

"Yes! It should've been! But then somehow, _miraculously_, the footage got sent to MJ and Ned! Which I'm pretty sure _you _had something to do with!"

"Listen, I am neither confirming nor denying the validity of those ludicrous claims, kid, but again, what's the big deal? Ned's your best friend and, to be completely transparent, he's _long_-suffering and has seen you do so much worse; plus, it's not like MJ broke up with you over it- No, god knows, you two are still drowning in the same disgusting puppy-love as before."

Peter's face burns red: his usual reaction to anytime Tony ribs him over MJ. "It's no- It's not about that- it's about the principal!"

"The... _principal_? Kid. _Really_?"

"_Yes_." Peter sniffed. "Mr. Stark, it is your job as my fake-father to guide me through life! Not to help your other -_inferior- _fake-son embarrass me!"

"Alright, kid." Tony rubs a tired hand down his face, a suffering sigh leaving his lips. "I whole-heartedly apologize. The way you reacted to the greatest prank ever pulled truly was unfortunate. Now, what can I possibly say to help you untwist your underoos?"

"Promise me you'll never do it again."

"Nah. Pepper didn't raise me to be a liar, Pete."

Peter looks like maybe he wants to say something back, but suddenly they're interrupted by the sound of a loud _pop_. The entire frame of the car shakes for a moment, and Peter screams girlishly as he slams on the break in a panic. The car screeches to a stop, and Tony flys forward in his seat.

"Um, Mr. Stark?" Peter is visibly shaking, looking over at Tony with wide eyes. "I, uh, did I crash?"

"_Crash_?" Tony utters out, taking a moment to catch his breath and let his rapidly-beating heart slow. He glances out the window, taking stock of the mass of moonlit trees surrounding them, and the empty expanse of back-road in front of them. "No. Underoos, you didn't _crash_\- You know I didn't really think it was necessary to explain, but you can't actually crash without another object to crash into or the car flipping or what not."

"Oh. Ok." Peter rocks in his seat for a moment, eyes wide with residual panic. "So no crash. But, um, I'm sorry, what?"

"The tire popped, Pete. 's not your fault so let's halt the guilt train before it even leaves the station, please." Tony assures. "Just put the car in park and turn it off. I'll get out and look."

Peter nods.

Tony opens the car door and steps out. There's about a three second grace period where all seems fine, but then he's stepping directly into a ditch in the dark, and passionately kissing the ground with just about every part of his body.

Tony shouts a very interesting string of curses and then can recognize the sound of the other car door flying open. Tony doesn't really care about the last bit though. He's more concerned about the gravel eating into his skin and the throbbing in his ankle.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asks wearily, flying out out of the car with one web-shooter strapped to his wrist. "Mr. Stark? Where'd you go?"

From Tony's spot on the ground (face pressed into the gravel and legs kicked out behind him into the curb-side grass) Peter looks like a fresh-faced idiot with the way he's blindly wandering around in the dark. The teenager keeps shouting Tony's name, brandishing the web-shooter like the billionaire's very own idiotic knight in horribly unpolished armor.

A part of Tony wants to just keep lying on the ground; to not make a sound and let Peter continue to look for him. This is easily one of the most embarrassing moments of his new domestic life, and the man isn't greatly looking forward to the laugh Peter is about to have at his expense. But, Tony is nothing if not a dilligent fake-dad, so he eventually sucks it up for the sake of his quickly panicking fake-son.

"Down here, Pete. On the ground. Kinda in the grass but mostly eating gravel."

Peter rounds the corner of the car, skidding to a stop right in front of Tony's splayed-out body. The teenager looks confused for a moment, staring down at Tony with an eyebrow quirked up and his mouth drawn into a thin line. But, eventually, as Tony's follies usually do, the sight has Peter dissolving into laughter, and then he's sitting on the ground, one hand braced out to support himself and the other wrapped around his shaking stomach.

"Oh- oh my _god_. Mr. S-Stark. I thought-" Peter starts, each word barely discernible through the cackling laughter. "God, I really- god, I really thought you'd been 'napped!"

"Yes. I know. It's very funny. The Great Tony Stark taken to his pathetic little knees by the darkness and an ill-placed ditch. Absolutely hilarious." Tony deadpans. "Wait- I'm sorry, _'napped? _You thought I got _what _now?"

"Taken! Snatched! Dad-napped! I thought it was serious!"

"Our car broke down, I just snapped my ankle in a ditch, and I'm lying half-broke on the side of a road about 15 miles out from our hotel. Kid, how is any of this not serious?"

"Ok, well- I mean when you say it like that maybe it does sound serious, Mr. Stark."

"Alright." Tony pushes himself up into a sitting position, wincing as he slides his ankle against the gravel. He claps his hands together and sighs resolutely. "Well. As fun and utterly mortifying as this has been for me, tire's still popped and we're in the middle of nowhere with no service. Let's get to walking; hopefully we'll find somewhere before I keel over and die."

"Can you even stand?" Peter says, glancing at Tony's ankle warily.

"Yes. 'M the World's Greatest Superhero, kid. Course I can stand."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes. _See," Tony lifts his pant leg up, and grimaces at the blue-and-purple mass of swelling that used to be his ankle. "Well. That's, uh-"

"Looks pretty bad, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah. Good observation, kid. Looks terrible." Tony takes a deep breath, preparing himself to shift again in order to stand. "But it'll be fine. We've got more important things to worry about; like your college tour tomorrow and the hotel breakfast tomorrow morning."

"I-I don't know. That, uh-"

"Quit your worrying, kid. That's my job. Just be a good fake-son and help me stand." Tony orders.

Peter nods, walking over to his mentor and slinging a stabilizing arm around the man's shoulders. Tony tries to stand, he really, _reall_y, does; but suddenly he's placing pressure on his ankle and burning shocks of _agony_ are running up and down the right side of his body.

"Wow. Ain't that just a barrel and a half of shitty, seizing pain. Lovely. Just what I need on this heinous night." Tony bites out, teeth gritted against the searing pain emanating from his ankle and flying up his calf. "You know, I gotta say, this is going really good. God, am I ever so glad this has happened to me."

"Sarcasm's reaching critical levels, Mr. Stark; is it even safe for me to be here?"

"Haha, very funny. You're a real-" Tony huffs, nearly screaming from all pain currently coursing through his body. "Jokester. Only guy funnier than you is Rhodey, kid."

The two of them hobble along like that for a bit, taking a break every time Tony deems the pain overwhelming; which is nearly every two steps at this point. The billionaire knows he's being dramatic, and know that he's been though much worse- take the loss of his entire right arm for example. But it's been nearly a year since he's retired, and incidentally that means it's also been nearly a year since he's done anything painful or otherwise injury-inducing. And doesn't that mean he gets to be just the tiniest bit dramatic? He did save the entire world, after all.

"Ok. Not that I don't believe in your ability or whatever Mr. Stark, but this really, _really_ isn't working." Peter says, huffing in minor frustration as he looks down at his mentor.

Tony had claimed that he was in need of a break and so that's where the pair had found themselves nearly half an hour later; about 75 feet away from the car _max,_ and already dropped down onto the road and taking another breather.

"I think it's working fine, Pete."

"Yeah, if you wanna get to the hotel by Monday morning."

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm, kid. Now's really not the time."

"Sorry. Sorry." Peter looks at Tony, kicking a stay piece of gravel around with his foot aimlessly. "I'm just saying, there's gotta be a better way."

"Don't sweat it, it won't be much longer. Trees'll clear up soon, we can call for a ride and it'll be fine. It's just your shitty Parker-luck that had my tire popping in the middle of nowhere."

"Thanks for that. I love when people point out just how unfortunate my life actually is." Peter says, but there's really no bite to it and he's smiling anyway.

They sit in silence for a few moments; Tony breathing through the throbbing in his ankle, and Peter lying on his back, staring listlessly at the stars above them. The billionaire takes out his phone, cursing when he sees it's nearly midnight, and vaguely registers the annoyance that settles in his stomach at the thought of the late check-in fee he'll have to pay at the hotel later. but that's, you know, assuming they ever get there, so he doesn't really think much into it.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter suddenly shoots straight up, eyes wide and excited. Tony knows well what the grin on Peter's face means, and he's not excited about it. Not in the least.

"Whatever you're gonna suggest, the answer is no."

"I haven't even said anything!"

"You don't need to; I can see the bad idea in your eyes, kid."

"It's dark. You can't see anything in anyone's eyes, Mr. Stark. Because it's dark."

"You're a menace and an idiot, Parker. Cannot believe I got saddled with you for a fake-son." Tony quips, but he's reaching out and ruffling Peter's hair anyway. The gesture has Peter smiling in much the way it always does, and Tony blames his giving in on the childish grin the teenager is currently sporting. "Ugh. Fine. Out with it, Underoos. What's your incredible game plan?"

"Well, I am so glad you asked, Mr. Stark." Peter's tone is loud and happy, reverberating through the night's stillness and practically shaking the silent trees around them. It's the boundless enthusiasm and glee in the teenager's voice that has Tony quickly regretting his decision. "Because I was sitting here, looking at the stars, and suddenly I thought- Hey. I'm enhanced. I can lift _lots _of things. So I was thinking, how do you feel about piggy-back rides?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not? 's not like you can walk, and the other alternative is, like, a bridal carry, and for what it's worth, I much prefer doing that with MJ as Spider-Man." Peter shrugs. "But I mean you're the boss or whatever of this whole operation, you pick."

"How about no to both of those options, and we just go back to what we were doing?"

"Can't go back, Mr. Stark. I've seen a better way and I can't go back to taking breaks every two seconds."

"We're taking a break right now, kid."

"Well, I mean after we get up. After that is when I can't go back."

"Unbelievable." Tony mutters under his breath.

There's a large part of Tony -the part that enjoys living a life of dignity- that wants to veto the idea completely. But there's an even bigger part of Tony (read: his entire body) that's lighting up with searing pain at just the _thought_ of getting up to walk again. Plus, the billionaire reasons, he's practically the only person in the world with a personal Spider-Man at his disposal; it'd just be a total waste not to take advantage of the teenager's enhanced strength.

"If I say yes," Tony agrees lowly, staring Peter down seriously. "We're laying out a few ground rules, alright?"

Peter nods enthusiastically.

"1: No singing- Taylor Swift is banned from now until forever and I don't want to hear a single cheesy lyric out of your mouth. 2: Jostle me unnecessarily even _once _and I'll chaperone every single date you ever try to go on from now until forever. And 3: Tell anyone about this and you're gonna be cleaning the Alpaca barn for the rest of your life."

Peter nods, grave seriousness written into the curve of his brow and the straight line of his smile.

"Alright, now go get all the important shit out of the car. If you forget to grab the money and our phone chargers I'm disowning you."

Peter nods again, immediately getting to his feet and searching through the car like he's just been tasked with the world's gravest mission. The teenager returns with all the valuables and settles himself next to Tony, handing the billionaire's wallet and phone charger over in genuine earnest. Tony rolls his eyes because the teenager's facade will no doubt fade in all of about a minute, but he's crawling across the ground towards Peter anyway. Peter does his best to be gentle and after about five minutes of uncomfortable shuffling and awkward half-jumping, eventually he's walking down the road; wearing his mentor like a backpack and struggling against the urge to start skipping just for the fun of it.

Tony can see the gloat on Peter's face and he knew it was only a matter of time before the teenager started mouthing off again. It was Peter's signature move: annoying the ever-living shit out of Tony. The billionaire just wished the silence could've lasted longer than it did.

"You know, that's a whole lotta rules, Mr. Stark. I might not be able to keep track of them all." Tony can't see Peter's wide smile but he can hear it and that alone sets the man's blood close to boiling. "Now, did you say that you _wanted _me to sing Taylor Swift? Because entertainment's extra- I work kinda like a cab that way. But obviously, like, less gas-fueled and more you're buying me McDonald's later."

"_Peter_."

"I'm not hearing a yes or a no, so I guess all I really have to ask is one final question: Are you feeling old or new? Is it more of a Love Story or Shake It Off kinda night?"

"It's more of a 'as soon as I can walk again I'm kicking your ass' kinda night."

"That's not very kind, Mr. Stark." Peter laughs, and Tony might sound mean but the teenager's long been used to the billionaire's ever-consistent grousing. "You know, I think I much prefer saving children. At least they tell me I'm cool and say thank you- which you know, you should work on doing more often."

"Sorry, sorry, thank you, Peter."

"Are you serious?" The hope in Peter's voice is incredibly obvious and Tony almost hates to crush it.

Almost.

"Yes. Thank you for being the _biggest_ pain in my ass, Pete. Universe went easy and gave me Morgan as a reward for dealing with you. My daughter's an angel, kid, and it's all thanks to your insolent self."

Peter's laughing then, and doing a little half-jump in order to shift his mentor further up his back. The insult might've sounded cruel, but Peter can hear the fondness leaking through Tony's exasperated tone.

It's just the way both of them communicate; they're both horrendous at feelings and sometimes it's just easier to be mean.

\--/--

15 miles feels a lot different as a piggy-back ride then it does as a car ride.

15 miles feels a lot different when Peter is focused on the road and not babbling incessantly in Tony's ear.

15 miles feels a lot different since they're only 6 miles in and still stuck on the same stretch of backroad.

"I'm just saying, why can't you fit my suit with thrusters?"

"Because spiders aren't meant to fly, Pete. It's why nature doesn't allow them to."

"I'm not an actual spider."

"Half the time I find you on my ceiling, and when it gets less than 50 degrees you can't regulate your own body temperature. You're a filthy arachnid, kid. Get used to it."

"Woah. Ok. Calm down with the slander; spiders aren't gross, you're just _mean_." Peter sighs. "Check your phone again, how much longer is this stupid road?"

".7 miles, Pete, and then turn right. Same as when you asked less than a minute ago." Tony shifts slightly, very tired of being carried on the back of his protege. There's a second where he feels like he can get down, but then he rolls his ankle as a test and nearly screams at the pain he feels. "Road'll probably end just after the bend up there. We'll be in civilization in no time, kid."

The words seem to awaken some kind of second wind in Peter, and suddenly the teenager is sprinting down the remainder of the road, all long strides and heaving laughter.

"Pete! Slow down! You're g-gonna drop me, kid!"

"Nah. I got-" Peter huffs a breath. Tony can hear the smile in his voice. "I got it. Don't even worry about it!"

Peter is unsurprisingly fast for an enhanced individual, and in no time at all he's rounded the bend in the road and turned right. The trees then begin clearing suddenly and Tony thinks that maybe God might be real after all. There's still a few miles or so of empty stretch, but in the distance Peter squints and, in a similar religious-awakening, thinks that maybe he's seeing Jesus.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter skids to a stop, flinging a hand up and pointing outwards. "That's totally Arby's right?"

"Yeah." Tony says breezily, taking his phone out with one hand. He grimaces when he checks the top of the screen, practically glaring at his lack of bars. "That's Arby's, kiddo."

"So..."

"Peter. No."

"But I want it..." Peter whines.

"I'm not going to stand by and let my kid fuel himself with sub-par roast beef." Tony sighs, readjusting the arm that he's got loosely slung around Peter's neck." I already gave you the hot cheetos, kid; this is just pushing it."

"Is it pushing it if I tell you I'm starving? Because I am. S_tarving_." Peter starts walking again, and it's his signature childish defiance that has him nearly running towards his destination. "I'll probably starve to death if I don't get Arby's soon."

"You won't _die_." There's that same something in Tony's voice again; that pleading, sad, _something_ that has the billionaire squeezing Peter's shoulders under his calloused hands, checking how corporeal his shoulder blades are. "You're not _dying_."

Peter halts a little, shoulder's slumping and Tony doesn't have to see the way a frown stretches across his face to know it's there. The teenager kicks a rock with his foot, stopping for a moment and shifting their combined weight from foot to foot.

"I- I, uh..."

"Don't say it, Peter. Please don't say it."

"I won't, Mr. Stark."

Peter sighs, and there's so much intrinsic guilt in the mannerism that Tony almost revokes his request; if only so the kid can remove some of that terrible weight he's constantly carrying. But then the billionaire's heart is racing at even the _thought _of an 'I'm sorry' from Peter, and suddenly he realizes just how necessary his rule about apologies is.

The stones didn't kill Tony; but Peter apologizing, Peter saying those words that taste like Titan's suffocating dust and it's blazing orange sunsets, those words, those _poisonous_ words- they'll obliterate Tony. Puncture his lungs with shrapnel and blistering heat. Force him back onto that terrible planet that neither of them really had any business being on in the first place.

Tony knows he could never survive another moment like that. He desperately hopes he'll never have to. 

It's that realization, the acknowledgment of that sinking sort of _sick _feeling he gets whenever Peter apologizes, that has him wanting to bring it up to the teenager. If only so that it doesn't continue rattling around in his brain like some type of nausea-inducing symphony. But he doesn't bring it up; because Peter is smiling so softly, looking so _unaffected _and pure under the moonlight. Tony can't bring himself to tarnish that light. He'd never forgive himself if his problems were the reason Peter stopped smiling.

It's quiet for a little while, and the darkness still looms like this quiet calm over the both of them. Peter's shuffling along, his stomach gurgling every now and again in time to Tony's grunts of pain. The Arby's looming in the distance seemed just a few miles off before, but the moonlight was deceiving and Tony tries to settle in for what looks to be one long-ass piggy-back ride.

This is not the way he planned his night to go, all things considered.

"Hey, uh, Mr. Stark?" Peter mumbles.

"What's up, bub?"

"What about 'deepest apologies, sir'?" Peter asks timidly, voice crackling slightly regardless of how much false humor he tries to imbue into the remark.

"Can I say that instead?"

"Too formal, kid." Tony frowns, guilt flooding him as he lets yet another opening for that very important conversation pass. "I hate 'sir'. It's gross. Makes me feel old."

"You are old. Got a child and everything."

"Children. You're literally one of them? I have _children_."

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally. C-children." Peter repeats and it's dazed in nature, teeming with endless naivety and childish disbelief.

Tony reaches up, blindly patting Peter's cheek with a splayed out hand.

Sometimes Tony feels like maybe he shouldn't do little things like that; that he doesn't _deserve _to try and make up for all the time that Peter should've been alive. Like every physical reassurance is some selfish way of trying to repent for Titan and those five years, and when he _failed_. But then Tony thinks about Morgan and about Harley and about how his heart doesn't stop it's uneasy beating until they, along with Peter, are all in the same room and laughing together.

He's done wasting time. Survivor's guilt can take a goddamn hike.

He pats Peter's cheek again, and tries not to cry over how much _warmth _the teenager holds beneath his skin.

—/—

"My legs are going to fall off." Tony complains.

"You're not even the one walking!_" _

"Peter." Tony flicks the teenager on the back of the head lightly. "It's not my fault that your hip bones are so fucking _bony, _alright? It's like getting a piggy-back ride from a skeleton, and it's your fault, so let me _complain_."

"Pepper was right. You're dramatic."

"Pepper isn't right."

"She's always right, Mr. Stark."

And some part of Tony wants to disagree for the pure petulance of it, but then again, he's long since been resigned to the well known fact of the universe: The only thing truer then death's inevitability was Pepper's ability to be perfectly correct about every single damn thing. It infuriated him and the rolling fondness beneath the fury made him realize just how much he already missed her.

Okay. So _maybe_, he's getting clingy- _is _clingy. But he saved the world! Tony's pretty sure that means he can act however he wants to now.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" Peter asks after a moment.

Tony rolls his eyes at Peter's weird need to address him specifically instead of just asking his questions outright. The teenager always does it before every inquiry, calling out his name with timid eyes, like Peter's checking to see if Tony really is paying attention to him. Tony rolls his eyes again because he feels like he already makes it pretty damn obvious: he's always paying attention to Peter. Even when he seems busy, the billionaire's always got a third of his brain tripping over itself to meet the teenager's every need.

"Do you remember when we watched 10 Things I Hate About You?"

"Oh. You mean that night you, May and Pepper forced me to sit through a marathon of the worst movies I've ever seen?"

Peter huffs out a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, that one."

"I remember. A night like that haunts your dreams for the rest of your life, kid." Tony makes sure Peter can hear the smile in his voice. "Why do you ask?"

"You know that scene where he's singing on the bleachers?"

"Yep."

"What if I do that- you know, instead of apologizing."

"No. Not allowed. You're not Heath Ledger and I'm not going to allow you to _serenade _me just because you feel like maybe you could pull it off- which you can't, by the way. Pull it off. Just wanted to make that crystal clear for ya, kid."

"I could pull it off!"

"Can you sing, Peter?"

"Ye-"

"No lies." Tony interrupts. "Try again."

"Okay. No. No I can't." Peter deflates. "Morgan tells me I'm alright sometimes, though."

"My daughter's best friend is Gerald, kid. _Anyone _is good when the only duet partner she has normally is an alpaca."

"Yeah. Okay. Okay. You might have a point there Mr. Stark." Peter laughs because the idea of Morgan singing duets with an alpaca is entirely too in-character for the little girl. "Morgs tells me you're pretty good though."

"Oh god, not you too. Please don't start."

"Just one song! Pepper tells me you're good all the time!"

"My wife is a terrible scheming _shrew _who likes to create issues for me. She's exaggerating. She's an exaggerator."

"Yeah. _Okay_." Peter says sarcastically. "Pretty rich coming from The King of Dramatics."

"First of all, who gave you permission to insult me like that? That's slander. And secondly? I'm never letting you and Rhodey hang out ever again. I know he coined that nickname and now you guys are just _conspiring_."

"What if I miss my Uncle Rhodey, though?"

"Then tough luck, kid. He's dead to me. You can't see him anymore." Tony says, and even though Peter can't see Tony from where the man is hanging off the teenager's back, he can very clearly hear the way the billionaire's lips are pulled into a disgruntled sneer. "I hate to break this to you, but me and him, Mommy and Daddy? Yeah. We're getting a divorce. It's your fault."

"Mr. Stark? I'm pretty sure that's, like, the exact opposite of what you're supposed to tell children of divorce."

"Doesn't matter. I have to drop my Honeybear when we get back -because of your _blatant_ disrespect- and I think it's important that you know and understand that it's all your fault."

Peter laughs for a moment. He takes a breath, looking at Arby's still looming in the distance and smiling into the night air. "If that's the case, then I want you to know I'm living with Mr. Rhodey."

"Huh?"

"When you split. I choose Mr. Rhodey. He's nicer to me."

"_Peter Benjamin_!" Tony shouts, playfully swatting at the back of Peter's head with his hand.

—/—

"Oh thank _god_!" Tony exclaims, breathing an easy sigh of relief as they make they shuffle their way through the Arby's parking lot.

"You're not the one who had to _walk!" _

"Yes. As you've said before Sir Repeats-A-Lot, now quit your complaining and let me down." Tony orders, unhooking his arms from around Peter's shoulders and trying to drop down onto the ground.

It doesn't go well. Tony stays where he is because Peter is a freak with sticky skin and unless the teenager makes a conscious effort to _not _make himself a human fly trap, then everything under the sun stays stuck to him. It's a fact that has brought Morgan great joy -in the form of sticking things she's too lazy to carry onto Peter's skin- but Tony's not his daughter. Tony is _annoyed_.

"Let me down."

"What?"

"Peter. You're doing that freaky shit again. You know I hate it." Tony huffs, letting his body fall slack because until Peter makes the effort it's not like he's really gonna be going anywhere. "This feels like a personal attack."

"It's not a personal attack, Mr. Stark, it's _biology_. I can't help it!" Peter huffs, but then he's doing that weird thing where he's flexing his fingers, closing his eyes briefly, and Tony feels himself becoming unstuck. "And, for all it's worth, I only did it because I thought it would help!"

"Well, it's striking my already-fragile heart with pure _fear_ so let's put a stop to it." Tony drops to the ground on one foot, holding his busted ankle a few inches above the ground.

"You're just mad because you fell in a ditch." Peter mumbles under his breath. "I wouldn't have."

"Well, not all of us have night-vision, Peter!" Tony takes a moment, fingers pinched together over the bridge of his nose. "God. I cannot _believe _that was a sentence I seriously just had to say."

"Well you didn't _have _to sa-"

"Yes, I did. Sometimes if feels like you need the reminder that not all of us are super like you, kid."

"Kinda hypocritical coming from somebody who literally saved the entire universe but okay, Dad."

And Peter knows what he's doing; he 100% does and Tony knows that Peter is really just using Tony's weakness to win the argument, but when Peter says that word, that _name_, well, Tony doesn't stand a chance. The man just smiles, wide and dopey and _blissful_ because what else can he really do? And, _yes_, maybe sometimes he cries, but this is an Arby's parking lot and even he, the current King of All-Things-Domestic-and-Saccharine, decides he'll hold it together considering the current locale.

Later he'll slip away to call Pepper, try not to cry (read: bawl like a sniveling baby) and she'll laugh at him and tease him about the sentimentality of it all. But Tony will be smiling for the next week, so he supposes that maybe he'll drop the argument and just take he can get when it comes to Peter.

"J-just, uh," Tony stutters, smiling widely, and Peter's resulting smirk clarifies that the teenager did indeed know _exactly _what he was doing. Not that it changes much for Tony, though. No, Tony's still grinning like a fool and over the moon about it all. "Take my wallet and go get us some food, kid. I'll call for a ride."

"You're not coming in?"

"Tony Stark, making his first public appearance since after the war, in a backwoods Arby's with a strange teenager? No thanks; PR will have a field day with that one." Tony sighs, shuffling over to lean against the wall of the restaurant. "I'll be alright. Just get me some of those curly fries, alright? And whatever else you need to recharge that spooky Spidey metabolism, son."

"Yeah. Okay." Peter smiles, because he's hopeless in much the same way that Tony is and the term 'son' always keeps him grinning. "Just don't break your other ankle while I'm gone, Mr. Stark."

"You're an ingrate. And ungrateful. And a pain in my ass. Oh, and also a little shit."

"Love you too!" Peter laughs, and then he's walking to the doors, and slipping inside the Arby's with the obvious spring in his step that he only gets from being intentionally annoying.

Tony pretends that everything is normal for almost an entire minute, before the near-constant lingering panic is rising up in his chest again. He shuffles, painfully adding weight onto his busted ankle, until he can look through the nearest window. Peter is one of just a few people in the Arby's and the sight of the teenager's gelled-hair and polite smile uncoils something in Tony's chest.

Tony knows it's not normal to constantly be checking the existence of your child. He knows it's not normal to wrap your child in armor every day for patrol and pray that it's _enough _this time. He knows it's not normal to forget how to breathe and knows that he should be remember how to without first looking to Peter's own ribcage for guidance. But Tony also knows that the Universe doesn't care how perfect or pure a person is; how_ good _Peter is. He's long since known that karma doesn't exist. That bad things just _happen _to good people.

So Tony watches. He's got an AI's eyes on everyone important in his life at all times, and if they're standing right in front of him then you bet Tony's already looking at them. He won't be unprepared this time. He'll stop the bad before it can happen.

Tony shakes his head, but the physical movement doesn't really stop the spiraling in his head. So he takes his phone out, and thanks a god he doesn't believe in that he has service.

"Oh _fuck_ you, Tony." Happy mumbles through the phone, voice tinged with irritation and residual sleep. "It's the ass-crack of dawn, what the _hell _do you want?"

"Well. Pleasant as ever I see." Tony chuckles. "What I need is a ride, and I figured you could handle that for me seeing as that is your job and all."

"A ride- Tony, I stopped doing that job years ago. What even happened? I thought you were supposed to be taking the chatterbox to MIT?"

"His name is Peter, and yes I was. That was the plan anyway. But now we're here, at an Arby's located in the middle of bum-ass-nowhere, my ankle's busted, and our car is stuck with a popped tire about, I don't know, eight miles back?"

"You _walked _eight mile-"

"I didn't. The kid did. And don't ask how because I won't tell you and I made Pete swear to keep his loudmouth shut." Tony took a breath. "Anyways, seeing as my ankle is almost definitely broken, can you also bring a brace or something when you come pick us up?"

Happy sighs and there's a few moments of silence and quiet rustling. "Do I have time to stop for coffee or is this an intimate death situation?"

"You can get coffee. And bring painkillers."

Tony barely manages to get the last statement out before Happy is hanging up the phone.

Peter walks out then, a large bag of food in his hand and two large milkshakes stuck to the exposed skin on his wrists.

"If you keep sticking things to yourself then you're gonna out your identity, kid."

Peter rolls his eyes. "There's nobody around to see it. And if they did, this is the middle of nowhere! Who's gonna believe them? It'll be like a UFO sighting- or, or Bigfoot!"

"You wanna be Bigfoot?" Tony deadpans.

"Okay, _no_, but like, Spider-man spotted in the middle of nowhere like a cryptid?" Peter hands Tony a milkshake and a cup of fries. "That'd be so _cool_, Mr. Stark."

"That's ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Just eat your shitty roast beef, Pete."

—/—

"Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"You just walked 15 miles and carried me for all of it, just go to sleep." Tony shuffles again, stretching his legs off of the curb and into the road. Peter blinks, staring petulantly at Tony from where his head is resting in the man's lap. "I mean it, kid, stop pinching yourself awake or doing whatever stupid thing you think I don't see you doing."

"I'm not tired." Peter says, this time with more frustrated force behind the statement. "I'm _not_."

"Well Happy isn't gonna be here for a few hours, so you might as well get some sleep while the sun is still down."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, Pete. I'll just take a quick snooze in the car." Tony brushes his hand down Peter's forehead, resting it over the teenager's open eyes. "Go to sleep."

Peter huffs in annoyance, knocking Tony's hand off his face and holding it in both of his. The teenager closes his eyes for a few minutes, fixating on the sounds around them and fruitlessly trying to go to sleep. Peter hears this soft, wind-like, _whoosing _sound, and feels his skin prickle against the soft breeze before he pops his eyes back open again.

"I can feel you staring, Pete. Stop it." Tony smiles, not looking down at Peter and instead choosing to follow the road with his eyes. "I thought you were trying to sleep."

"I can't sleep."

It's the seriousness in Peter's voice that snaps Tony's eyes down to meet the teenager's. "Why not?"

"I hate the stars."

Tony sucks in a breath. He can feel what this is leading to in his bones, and he can't let this moment pass again; he _needs _to start that conversation, especially since Peter seems to be struggling just as much as he is.

Tony nods, brushing a stray hair back from Peter's forehead as encouragement to continue.

"I don't like the stars anymore, Mr. Stark. I can't _stand _them."

"Why?"

Tony didn't expect Peter to explode. He didn't predict the way Peter hopped up so suddenly and stood in front of him, practically shaking. His eyes wild, blinking angry and scared behind a glossy sheen of tears.

"I just hate them- they're just out there and they've always been there and I know they're there just as much as they've always been but now it's different because I can't even look them without feeling sick!" Peter gasps, grasping tightly at his hair as he shakes his head. "I hate them because they look different from the outside of a spaceship and I would know because I'm an _idiot _who got himself _dusted_ in fucking outer _space _because I couldn't just _listen_."

"Pete-"

"No! No, no-no. Just don't-don't interrupt. Don't tell me it's okay. It's not. It's _not_! I was so fucking _stupid_. Why couldn't I- why could I just stay in the f-fucking _bus_!" Peter's shouting now, pacing in front of Tony with this burning _anger_ that's horribly unfitting for how quiet the trees surrounding them are. "I had to go be a hero for _no _fucking reason at all because its not like we even won or I even helped- and, and now I can't even look at a sunset because the sky is orange and it looks like when I _died _on fucking T-T-T- _God_, I can't even say it! Why can't I- I can't- I can't even _say _T-Ti-" 

"Titan." Tony finishes and the word tastes acid, stiff, like it bites _back _around his teeth as he spits it out. "Titan."

"Yeah." Peter breathes and suddenly it's like he's lost all his steam, deflating in front of Tony by the second. "_That_." 

It's quiet for a second and Tony kind of feels like he wants to fill that silence with words or reassurances, but Peter is staring back at him looking just so _defeated_, and he knows that now is not the time for reassurances. 

"I- uh, hate the stars too. Always have since New York; black holes, they're- they're funny like that." Tony's voice reads slightly shaky as he scratches at his goatee. "I hate swimming, thank you Afghanistan. I hate shields, thank you Steve Rogers. And I especially, especially, hate _dust. _God, I hate dust, kiddo. I hired a cleaner for the cabin because even a single speck can send me into a panic attack. I hate dropping you off at May's every Sunday night because even though I know you're safe, I can't see you so my brain thinks you're probably gone. And the thing I hate the most- the _absolute_ most is that I can't pick Morgan up anymore. That I can't hug you and her at the same time. That my arm is gone and I should be grateful to be here- and I _am, I am_, but you're still unhappy and Pepper is the only one with a wedding ring since the infinity stones fucked up mine, and I can't braid Morgan's hair anymore. It's the best I've ever had and the best I'll ever get, but sometimes I still wake up unhappy and I feel guilty about it. So fucking guilty."

"Every morning I wake up and I want to quit being Spider-Man. I'm not some stupid 14 year old with no idea what war actually looks like anymore and now that I do, I just want to quit. How selfish is that? I'm the one with superpowers, I'm the one who Ned swears up and down is the _luckiest, _and I'm still complaining?" Peter nudges a rock with his shoe, sends it flying towards Tony's own feet. "But I can't even quit because I love doing backflips too much and talking to Karen and I hate that the most because those things are so childish and this- this isn't for children is it? Dying in space and fighting titans and saving the universe are things I should have done so much later, but I was an _idiot _who couldn't just _listen_."

"You're not an idiot, Pete. You're a kid. Kid's do stupid shit and it's the _adults_ who are supposed to protect them from the consequences of that stupid shit." Tony sucks in a breath. "And I'm the selfish one because if I could do it all over again, if I go back to the beginning, I'd still give you the suit."

"W-why?" Peter whispers through his tears, his voice sharp and filled with betrayal. 

"Because I'm selfish and now that I have you back, it's like I can't imagine a world where you're not here with me. You're here, you're _permanent _to me. You made me go so damn crazy without you that I invented fucking _time-travel_, Pete, time-travel."

"I-I still don't think I'm ready to go back to being Spider-Man yet." Peter says abruptly. "Is that- is that okay?" 

"Yeah, don't worry about it, kiddo. Queens is still there today, and will still be there tomorrow if you decide to take off then too. And it'll still be there without you if you decide being a superhero isn't what you want anymore. Nobody would blame you."

"Okay. Okay." Peter nods. "I just feel guilty."

"Product of being a hero, kid." 

"Does that ever go away- I mean, do we ever like get to just enjoy life without all the other stuff?" Peter asks, his voice so small that Tony's heart nearly breaks. "Because I miss going to the beach with Ned, and I miss watching the sunset up on the roof with May, and I know it's selfish but I miss showing off and saving people and doing flips off the Empire State Building."

"It's not selfish, Pete. And this is us enjoying it, don't you think?" Tony breathes, using his arm to brace himself against the curb as he looks up at the teenager. "If smiling just a bit more then we cry is all we get then I think I can be happy with it. We have to be able to be happy with it." 

Peter sighs, dropping into a slouch next to Tony and driving his forehead into the man's shoulder. He huffs out a little breath that Tony can feel through his dress shirt. "Fuck Thanos."

"Yeah," Tony snorts, turning his head to the side and dropping a kiss to the top of Peter's head. "Fuck Thanos."

—/—

When Happy arrives hours later, car cresting over the horizon in sync with the early morning sun, Tony's exhausted. Which, you know, is fair considering that he just pulled his first all-nighter in nearly a year. Peter isn't tired, though. Not in the least. No, he's feeling just fine while contentedly snoring into the crook of Tony's neck, completely dead to the world as he snoozes.

It seemed that finally letting it all out was cathartic for the both of them, especially Peter. The kid practically dropped into his lap again after a little while and then Tony begun counting the minutes until the teenage was fast asleep. Tony guessed 5, it only look 4 minutes and 34 seconds. A record setting time for his special _putting babies to bed _superpower, as his wife so lovingly called it.

Tony kind of feels like celebrating the victory, but then again, he's been a genius his whole life. Of _course_, he could coax a child to sleep! He's Tony _fucking _Stark.

"Well, don't you look snugly." Happy smirks, rolling the car's window down as he addresses the pair.

"Teasing doesn't work anymore, Hap. I'm immune." Tony sighs, tightening his singular arm around Peter. "My self-esteem has really been through the roof since I-"

"_Saved the entire universe_." Happy grumbles, stepping out of the car. "Yes. I _know_. No need to remind me."

Tony just huffs good-naturedly in response because it'd been nearly a month since the last time he saw Happy. Now that Tony was fully retired and his recovery didn't really lend itself to public appearances, Tony didn't really have a need for a driver. It's been an _End of an Era _type thing that honestly makes Tony uncomfortably nostalgic if he thinks too hard on it, but he decides he likes Happy just fine as an Uncle instead of a driver.

"Do you need help with Baby Einstein or can you manage?"

"His name is Peter, but yes, I can manage." Tony smiles, and Happy nods and ducks back into the car. Tony curls his hand around Peter's shoulder and up the teenager's neck, patting an insistent rhythm into his cheek. "Peter. Pete. Petey. Come on, get up. Nap time's over, kid."

Peter mumbles something vaguely coherent before sitting up and pushing Tony away irritably.

"Sure. Shove me around, kid, do whatever you want; not like I selflessly held you up as you slept for the last hour or anything."

Peter rubs at his eyes, looking over his curled up fists with furrowed brows. Tony would be offended, but Peter's got red-cheeks and a crease from the collar of the man's shirt indented in the center of his forehead; the fact of the matter is that the teenager is just too adorable for Tony to feel anything other than that disgusting paternal mush he seems to be practically made out of now.

"Hap's here, you gotta help me stumble into the car." Tony tries, rolling his eyes when Peter just kind of looks at him confused, and practically on the verge of falling asleep again right where he sits. "C'mon Creepy Crawlie, it's show-time for the enhanced, again."

"Fine. Fine, just uh, gimme-gimme a sec, Mr. Stark." Peter yawns before stretching obnoxiously and nearly taking Tony's eyes out with a flying fist. "Oops. Sorry?"

"You don't sound sorry in the slightest so don't waste your breath, now c'mon. Help the elderly, will ya?"

Peter nods, still seemingly sleep-drunk and sloppy, as he lifts Tony in a tangle of gangly limbs and superhuman strength.

"I thought we weren't going for the whole newly-wed, bridal-carry thing?" Tony laughs, patting Peter's chest in fondness.

"Car's like two steps, and the other option is, like, throwing you like a football through the open window."

"Shoulda done that. Can't believe you missed out on that opportunity."

Peter only shrugs, and pulls open the car door. Before Tony knows it, he's practically being thrown down onto the seat as Peter shuffles in behind him. The billionaire feels the luxury leather under him, and the seat warm as Peter fiddles with the heater-settings; it's comfortable and inviting, and his eyes are dropping before he can really fight it.

Peter nudges him for a moment, grabbing at Tony's crossed arms.

"What do you want?" Tony flicks a single eye open.

"Do we still have to do the college visit in like-" Peter glances down at his watch. "3 hours, or can we skip it? I'm so tired."

"We can go later today, bud. I'll pull some strings and we can go tonight or something." Tony closes his eyes again, reclining back into the crevice where the car seat meets the door.

"Where to, boss?" Happy speaks through the divider, and Tony doesn't have to see the man's smirk to hear it.

The sound of the old nickname brings a nostalgic smile of Tony's own. "I don't know, Hap- Just find a hotel sort of near MIT. The more expensive the better; I'm feeling like a insanely high thread-count would do wonders for my bones right now."

"You didn't _walk_!" Peter indignantly mumbles, flopping over into Tony's side and re-establishing his place just under the man's chin. "I did all the work, why are _you_ complaining_?_"

"Because my ankle is broken and I don't have spider-healing. Now shut up and go to sleep or I'm not gonna let you go to college."

Peter huffs some semblance of annoyance into Tony's necks, as he closes his eyes. Tony can feel the car begin to move under them, and sinks even lower into the seat as he relaxes.

So, maybe the college trip didn't _quite _go as expected. But that's okay, Tony concedes, because nearly nothing in his life as ever gone as expected and somehow he still ended up here; in a heated luxury vehicle, about to fall asleep peacefully curled up around a child he still can't believe he can hold in his arms again.

And, _yes, _maybe his ankle still throbs white-hot pain with every beat of his heart, and _yes_, maybe Peter really does smell exactly what you'd expect someone to smell like after a 15 mile walk right now; but a college is waiting for them both, and Tony can't wait to brag until Peter is so red in the face the teenager is nearly passing out.

Tony is already smiling -nearly _always _smiling now in the face of his new domestic bliss- but that natural grin only grows wider when he can feel the sun begin to hit his face.

If this is all he gets; if this is what smiling just a little bit more then he cries feels like, then he can be happy with it.

He _is _happy with it. 

**Author's Note:**

> lmao soz this got so long and ran away from me but i just love them so much ahaha anyway hope u enjoyed :)


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